


Amid Rage and Love

by Ziane



Category: Founder of Diabolism, The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Love Bites, M/M, Mild powerplay, Novel Spoilers, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Reminiscing, Rimming, Smut, Teasing, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-05 06:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18360656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: The Discussion Conference of Lanling starts off with an incident involving a disciple of the sect and the Yueyang Clan. Nie Mingjue had yet another public fight with Jin Guangyao, and Lan Xichen's absence worsens his mood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains explicit spoilers up to Chapter 55 ٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)ᵒᵏᵎᵎᵎᵎ  
> This is the sequel of [Our Haven's Lullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453012)

The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen, he didn’t pay much attention to him. He came to the Cloud Recesses to study while he was a junior; why would he notice someone a few years younger than him? Everyone spoke highly of the two Jades of Lan, especially of Lan Xichen who had impressed everyone with his guqin and xiao skills and his ability to use them to communicate with spirits and guide summoning ceremonies. To Nie Mingjue, a teenager focused on the saber and his swordsmanship and eager to taste the gruesomeness of war, those achievements meant nothing. His sect measures their cultivators in the fierceness of his battle skills and the strength of their attacks.

Until he saw him wielding Shuoyue. Lan Xichen moved with a graciousness he hadn’t seen before, lunging forward, twirling in the middle of a leap, landing as gracefully as if he was dancing instead of fighting the air and the humidity of an early morning sprinkle. Nie Mingjue watched him in a mixture of admiration and surprise, not sure why couldn’t he avert his gaze from him. The forehead ribbon remained unmovable as he repeated his routine over and over, but the ends drifted in the wind and defied gravity at their own will. His feet knew no weariness, his thrusts gauged and precise. A spectacle he could admire and appreciate with the eyes of someone who had trained relentlessly from an early age.  The corner of his mouth pulled upward in a smug smile, tarnishing his usually stern expression. Lan Xichen noticed his presence and, to Nie Mingjue’s disappointment, he sheathed his silver sword and granted him a formal bow. “Young Master Nie.” He hadn’t even broken a sweat nor his breathing hitched. Nie Mingjue decided he had to add handsomely to capable while describing the Young Master of Lan.

During his time there, Nie Mingjue learned to respect and acknowledge his merits and the ones from his brother, Lan Zhan; and he also learned meditation was useless and that training with his saber helped him to focus more than the so lauded Cold Spring. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji both were, and still are, the pride of the Gusu Lan Clan. In his heart, he had hoped his little brother Nie Huaisang would be at his side likewise. Nothing farther from the truth. “I have a little brother too,” Nie Mingjue said to Lan Xichen upon meeting Lan Wangji and seeing how both excelled in music and swordsmanship. “He’s the kindest thing you’ll ever know. I hope he overcomes his childishness and becomes a great cultivator.” He was proud of the little brother who asked him to carry him on his shoulders upon seeing him and was scared of the dark and sneaked into his bed for a late-night tale. Nie Mingjue only knew stories about long-forgotten wars that ended up being cruel and violent and scared him even more. He always laughed at his bleary eyes and quivering chin but also held him tightly until he finally fell asleep. Even now, he believes he played his part spoiling Nie Huaisang, or maybe his brother will always be a tender-hearted child in his soul, more interested in the hidden beauties of this world than battlefields and wars.

He and Lan Xichen became friends and trained together, he listened to the enticing melody of the guqin with a patience he had never found in himself before and, as stern as he had always been, Lan Xichen could steal a smile or a loud guffaw from him in no time. Their first cup of wine was also together, under the starry night sky of Gusu.

It wasn’t until a few years later that the handsomeness he had noted in Lan Xichen turned into the breathtaking beauty he was famous for. Rumors told there would be no other cultivator more fought over than Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue found himself swooning in delight and sighing at his pristine beauty as one would in front of the first snowfall of Qinghe. Delicate snowflakes couldn’t hold a candle to an onyx sea crowned by two gentle, dark eyes and a smile wider than a waning crescent moon. He never acted on his infatuation, fearful to disturb the peaceful friendship between them, but at discussion conferences, archery contests, and night-hunts in which they coincided, he pursued his company and the otherworldly sight of his beauty like the precious gift it was.

Those pleasant memories are in the past now. His father died when he was still a teenager, and life became a steeplechase. Nie Huaisang never fully matured even if he sent him to the Cloud Recesses knowing how good the atmosphere there would be for him. Lan Xichen was a far-fetched dream he left behind in his youth and swathed him in lonely nights. All he knew from then on was war, and endless struggle against the ones who wronged his father, against his spirit saber, and his own self.

As though the war had never happened here, Nie Mingjue strolls across the wooden bridge over one of the lakes in the Lanling Jin Residence. His intentions, to get lost in the sumptuous and flowery gardens. An intricate maze of wood, rock, and pagodas surrounds Jinlin Tower, allowing anyone to drift into another world that seemed to have never known the cruelty of war. The garish yellow of golden larch orchards contrasts with the white ocean of peonies; even the surroundings take after the proud colors of the clan. Lanling recovered quickly compared to those areas that still struggle to get on their feet.

An early summer day allows for an early blooming of sparks amidst snow. As Nie Mingjue ventures in a familiar section of the garden, a sea dotted in yellow, pink, white, and orange conquers the landscape. Its extravagance matches its splendor while the fragrance of the peonies invades his nostrils. The heady scent is as intoxicating as the atmosphere here. It has nothing to do with the pureness of Gusu or the aridity of Qinghe. Lanling is like an opulent drug that gets to you and taints your senses with a veil of pretty flowers, sweet wine, and fulfilling food. Everything masks the intrigues that take place in the Fragrant Palace. Nie Mingjue has never felt at home here, and though the conference will take a few more days to conclude, he’s ready for it to end, especially after yesterday’s incident.

Lan Xichen hasn’t arrived yet, and it breaks his heart. The only thing that helped him on his way from Qinghe to Lanling was the thought of his love-struck gaze soothing his soul and the not-so-innocent promise of his lips over his own. All night long. Nie Mingjue hopes he arrives soon, he will wait for him until the conference is over. If he’s lucky enough, he will be able to snare Lan Xichen in Qinghe to enjoy the last days of spring within the mountains and in the safety of his bed. The Unclean Realm shifts in all its beauty through Lan Xichen eyes. That’s if Jin Guangyao doesn’t hold his beloved in Lanling for too long.

A tender smile stretches his lips when, at the end of the path, he spots the huangshan pine he was looking for. His strides, lazy and unhurried until then, hasten to reach the shadow of its branches. Nie Mingjue never cared for the scenery or flourishing areas, his sudden ambling through fragrant flowers in bloom takes him to that day, to that moment, to that stolen kiss. It wasn’t so long ago, and if he closes his eyes, he can feel again the churning stomach, the humid heat of that day, the way Lan Xichen’s hair shone under the bright sun and warmed his heart; the sweetness of his smile, the taste of wine in his mouth… memories overwhelm him in a bittersweet mixture.

This is the story of a man who thought himself captured and dead, that had given everything to war, winning every battle, coating his sword in the deep-red blood of his enemies and enduring the nightmares and the harshness of an everyday growing resentfulness that even now, menaces to drive him mad. He’d rather die in the battlefield than how his father did. The only thing Nie Mingjue was scared of was a qi deviation, and yet he fed his saber with the heady taste of battle and blood; of hate and revenge. Insatiable.

It tasted good until he failed.

After coming back and recovering from his wounds, the only thing he regretted was how he fought with Lan Xichen, maddened by anger and Meng Yao’s intrigues. How could Lan Xichen defend a traitor like Meng Yao? Was he so wrong and they so right? But, when he opened his eyes for the first time, Lan Xichen was beside his bed watching over his health and wounds while playing the guqin. He smiled at him how Nie Mingjue knew he didn’t deserve. That’s the fateful moment he realized he was in love with him and that he would be until the end of his days. Undeserving of a requited loved he hankered more than glory. Lan Xichen plucked at the guqin strings to evoke a healing melody when he was actually tugging at his heartstrings.

The aftertaste of war did strange things to his heart. Nie Mingjue wanted things he always thought belonged to others. He wanted _him_. And more than ever, he determined to turn Nie Huaisang into a capable cultivator even if that was the last thing he did. He would need to be strong, independent, he would need to be prepared to be the leader of the Qinghe Nie Sect and his big brother would take care of that. The time to hide under the covers and dream of other worlds had to end for Nie Huaisang.

The flower banquet witnessed the end of the war, the blooming of the spring, and the blossoming of their love. Ostentatious celebrations lasted for seven days, but on the first day, after the first round of the first banquet, Lan Xichen sneaked outside for some air. He had mentioned the beauty of the gardens and how someone could get lost in them drinking in their beauty and lose a century of a lifetime. Nie Mingjue downed his cup of wine and followed him, having lost interest in the celebrations if his laugh didn’t resound in the Glamour Hall doing justice to its name.

He found him under the shadow of this same tree. “Xichen,” he called. A beaming smile and gentle eyes turned to outshine the sun and strike him through the heart. As though he was walking on clouds, he inched his way toward him. “Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said. “You seem fully recovered.” His knuckles stroked his cheek in an overly familiar gesture. They had been close those days he was healing, they shared so much time together, pain and laughs easing the hours and the aftertaste of war. He had been a coward and Lan Xichen left Qinghe and doomed him to sleepless nights missing his presence.

Nie Mingjue took his hand and kissed his palm. Lan Xichen didn’t resist but a pink hue tinged his cheeks and gave a youthful air to his complexion. One that didn’t know of war when Lan Xichen had fought fiercely too until its end. What a pure heart to still be untarnished by the pain.

“I love you. I realize now I always have.” Nie Mingjue swallowed the bitter taste of fear. “I won’t ask you to love me back, I don’t deserve someone like you.” The rising and falling of his chest made his head dizzy and his legs wobble. Yet he couldn’t stop now. “I won’t mention it again, I won’t pursue you, I won’t chase you, I won’t…” Nie Mingjue had never backed off from a single battle in his life. He couldn’t let this be the first one.

Lan Xichen gasped when he reduced the distance between them to nothing, when his arm tangled around his waist, his fingers threaded in his hair and secured the back of his head and Nie Mingjue pressed their lips together with a groan. The last attack of a beaten-up soldier who has given everything for the sake of an uncertain victory. As a sloppy thief, he took his mouth with haste. A token to appease his soul and his shattered heart at the unasked confession that he poured into an ocean of white peonies and Lan Xichen’s ears.

Drowned in the warmth of his mouth and the little resistance he found, Nie Mingjue deepened the kiss, and Lan Xichen returned tenfold the longing that had conquered his heart. He melted in the strength of his arms, opening his mouth and yielding to his tongue like the most willing lover. Could it be he had been starved for him too? The kiss lasted until drawing breath was a must, a clear trail joining their swollen lips, his hands holding him and preventing the escape that wouldn’t happen. “Lan Huan…” His whisper died in another kiss, and many more followed until the evidence of their love turned into unrestrained lust.

The scent of peonies always reminds him of their first kiss. A curse and a blessing when it happened in such an unwelcoming place. His only good memory in Lanling lays underneath that tree. Nie Mingjue feels the roughness of its trunk with his palm, blushing at how he owned, kissed, and conquered against it, tainting forever Lan Xichen’s pureness with his blood-stained hands. How he loved him then, and how he loves him now. They celebrated for seven days and seven nights, not the end of the war but the beginning of their love. Nie Mingjue had a victory to celebrate in his arms. The most important of them all.

“Dage.” The magic of the moment vanishes upon hearing his voice.

Almost instantly, his hand turns into a fist over the tree bark. He exhales to calm his rage about what happened yesterday before the conference started. Nie Mingjue turns around with a furrow between his eyebrows. “Hm.” Jin Guangyao glances at him with the ever-present smile he has for everyone else as if nothing in this world would disturb him. He had admired his composure in the past, little he knew it was the disguise of a killer that even today dares to foul him.

“What a beautiful spot dage has found,” Jin Guangyao says, lifting his eyes to the green leaves swinging in the breeze. “One of the oldest trees here.” He locks eyes with Nie Mingjue, but behind polite words and fake smiles he sees the soul of a killer. “Who knows the secrets these gardens hide.” The man who had assassinated for his own sake and interests; executed his men in front of his eyes, lied and twisted the truth to fit his ambitions. But in the end, Nie Mingjue still owed him his life. Never again his trust. “It survived the war.”

“Many did.” Nie Mingjue shoots him an icy glare. “And many did not.”

“I wish no quarrel with you, dage.” Jin Guangyao beckons him to walk abreast of him as they return to Jinlin Tower. Seems like his moment of peace is over.

“Then make it right for the Yueyang Clan,” Nie Mingjue says. He glances one last time at the huangshan pine, solitarily lost in a sea of sparks amidst snow, and follows Jin Guangyao. His mood swings again ignited by his presence. Injustices had always struck him hard since he was very little, and his father’s fate aggravated this trait in him. Right and wrong are irreconcilable sides of a sword.

“My father…” Jin Guangyao says, but Nie Mingjue arches a questioning eyebrow. A not-so-subtle threat that hints he won’t take any more excuses from him regarding Xue Yang’s guiltiness. Jin Guangyao clears his throat and continues. “Once this matter has been thoroughly investigated, the Lanling Jin Sect will punish to the utmost severity and…”

“Blood is paid with blood.” Nie Mingjue’s words are final. Despite all the evidence Xiao Xincheng provided and his failed attempt to deliver justice in the spot, the renowned delinquent Xue Yang is imprisoned in the dungeons until Jin Guangshan deems it fit. He should be executed for his despicable actions.

“As you say, dage.” Jin Guangyao grants him another polite smile that doesn’t appease Nie Mingjue’s renewed anger. They leave the fragrance of the peonies behind, and the creaking of the wooden boards accompany every step they take through the bridge toward a nearby tea house. “Will you attend the banquet tonight?” The exhausting morning conference started at six and the afternoon sun is still high in the sky.

“Only if my presence is required,” Nie Mingjue retorts. After half a day among cultivators from multiple sects, big and small, he has no wish to spend the night revisiting the morning topics. An evening alone will do.

“You will be missed -he sighs- but it will be fine,” Jin Guangyao says. “I’ll arrange the seats to place er ge by my side and...”

Nie Mingjue’s strides falter for a moment. “Xichen has arrived?”

Jin Guangyao nods with a sly smile. “The venerated triad reunited.” Jin Guangyao grants him a scrutinizing sidelong as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. Nie Mingjue frowns, resuming his pace. “He’s in the guest residence and asked not to be disturbed. I’m afraid he is tired after the journey from Gusu. His accommodations are next to yours, as always.” A pregnant pause lifts the air between them, as it always does when Lan Xichen intercedes for him only with his presence. “Perhaps later I could share a moment with my two older brothers as we used to.”

“Hm.” There was a time when they had, free from intrigues and politics, but with the menace of war over their heads. “I will retire to my chambers until tonight then.” Nie Mingjue says, turning in the opposite direction at the next crossroads, eager to find Lan Xichen, his haven in this dungeon full of wolves.

“Dage,” Jin Guangyao calls him. “I will try to do right by you.”

Nie Mingjue huffs, glancing at him over his shoulder unable to bite back his retort. “Not by me but by the fifty people massacred by a Lanling guest disciple.” He leaves before Jin Guangyao has the chance to defend himself or the criminal again and because Lan Xichen awaits him and he needs him more than air.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Jin Guangyao loses his smile and ambles back to the Glamour Hall where the preparations for tonight’s feast are being made. He smiles at the lavish ocean of flowers and decorations that speak of wealth and prosperity when they are an illusion that soon will wither. Jin Guangyao greets with a bow and a polite smile at every cultivator that he comes across, remembering every face, every name, every weakness. He may be nothing more than Jin Guangshan’s bastard and the son of a prostitute, but he walks across Lanling now as though it were his home. Because he won’t stop until this belongs to him and until he brings so much glory over the Lanling Jin Sect that no one will dare to remark his past or questionable origin. Not Jin Guangshan, not Nie Mingjue, not anyone who wants a role in the future of the cultivation world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ヾ(｡･ω･)ｼ
> 
> Will Nie Mingjue find Lan Xichen? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

Appeasing the thumping of his heart and the sudden surge of ire, Nie Mingjue ignores the path to his accommodations and follows the one to Lan Xichen’s. He stays in Lanling often, dragged here by Jin Guangyao’s endless requests about the lookout towers. Lan Xichen will always help his sworn brother, offering a hand or a shoulder to cry because of his new position after Jin Zixuan’s death. Nie Mingjue grits his teeth, if only Lan Xichen could see Jin Guangyao through his eyes; what he has seen him do, what he witnessed back in the Sun Palace… No, his fallen brother will never have his trust again, and it’s his responsibility to mend his ways and make him repent for his actions for he is his sworn brother.

Two deafening knocks make the structure of the doorstep shake as if it was an earthquake instead of an impatient lover. There is no answer except for the chirping of the birds and the breeze shaking the trees. Nie Mingjue lifts his fist again, ready for another knock when a faint voice reaches his ears. “It’s open!” He swallows thickly before entering the excessively decorated chambers.

As always, Jin Guangyao takes care of every detail. Lan Xichen’s favorite sweets lay displayed on a tray near a teapot; fresh flowers and a three-legged incense burner in the shape of a lion filling the room with the aromatic scent of musky spring. A wooden bed presides the room, light yellow see-through curtains draping down the canopy and onto the floor in almost staged perfection. Even though Nie Mingjue knows Lan Xichen cares nothing for ostentatious accommodations, he sees Jin Guangyao’s doing in every single inch of this room.

Even his own chambers do without such display of wealth which would make him feel uncomfortable. He has a desk, a bed, and everything to cover for his basic needs but nothing out of place or merely there for the sake of recreation. Jin Guangyao still remembers the simple tastes that enrich his life, paying no attention to small details or unnecessary amenities. A frisson runs through his spine as he realizes that he knows them both so well to even remember how he likes plain, cotton sheets and unsweetened tea. But this room doesn’t scream Lan Xichen but Jin Guangyao spoiling him.

“Lan Huan?” After the first sweep, he doesn’t find a trace of his beloved, but his guqin rests peacefully on a table, Shuoyue near the bed, and a hearty laugh behind a folding screen curls his stomach nice and warm. His garments hang from the folding screen, partly covering the painting of a colorful garden. Behind it, he finds who he was looking for. His heart stops at a halt and his breath seizes.

Lan Xichen grants him a sultry smile, submerged in a barrel bathtub as a living temptation. The water covers his pink-flushed skin to his chest, his arms rest over the rim and his hair drapes at both sides of his body, mingling in the water and the many peony petals that twirl over its surface. His mouth goes dry at the enticing vision. “How did you know it was me?” Nie Mingjue says, folding his arms over his chest to feign the scene hasn’t taken him aback. “It could’ve been anyone barging in here!”

“Only you would disturb me when I’ve asked not to be disturbed,” Lan Xichen purrs, leaning forward and bracing himself on the opposite edge while glancing up at Nie Mingjue with those dark, glass-like eyes that rob him of his wits. “And you almost crashed my door by knocking,” he teases.

Before Nie Mingjue can protest, his jaw drops at the same time Lan Xichen stands, leaving the warmth of the bath. The mixture of water and scented oil trickles down the ridges of his body, gliding down his peerless skin as though it were a piece of fine jade. Nie Mingjue takes a step forward, hustling his arms to wrap around his waist and his hands to grope for his buttocks. His skin is hot and tender, and he squeezes while breathing out a gasp into his mouth. Lan Xichen tastes and smells like sweet dreams, and he closes his eyes and falls for his mouth with the usual teenage eagerness he has for him every time they see each other.

It tastes of their first kiss, of their first time, of the never-ending love that lurks their hearts and shrouds them at this moment of their lives. Nie Mingjue assails his mouth pursuing a sense of déjà vu that fades against his will before he can dwell on the emotions. His hands rove up his waist and down the lush curve of his ass while his tongue explores and elicits a moan from Lan Xichen, overwhelmed by his kisses and the luscious swipes of his tongue. “Do I taste melancholy, Mingjue-xiong?” Lan Xichen quips a little breathless.

Biting his lower lip, Nie Mingjue grunts and leaves crescent moon indentations in his butt cheeks as an answer. His worries fade, he left them at the doorstep, there is nothing but them now. “I have missed you,” he whispers. “Come to bed, let me have you…” The tender plea is like music to Lan Xichen’s ears, and he chuckles amusingly at how Nie Mingjue tries to lift him and steal him from the comfort of the hot water.

“Uh-uh, dage,” Lan Xichen chides, clinging to his neck while squirming away from his relentless hands. “This time, your mine, you promised…”

“What did I promise?” Nie Mingjue tries to trap his mouth but the beautiful Jade of Lan averts his lips and his gaze. Lan Xichen dips into the water and reclines back over the rim. A playful gaze rivets over his wet garments. Nie Mingjue is a heartbeat away to snatch him from the tub and throw him in the bed. Part of Lan Xichen tightens at the thought, his cock hardening at his own treacherous thoughts. It would be messy, devastating, raw love that would leave his heart trembling and his body aching for more. Knowing Nie Mingjue’s ability to take what he wants, they’d be done before the water would turn lukewarm. Lan Xichen wets his lips at the dark shadow crossing Nie Mingjue’s gaze.

But a smug smile stretches his lips. “You promised to let me tie you up and play with you as I pleased.” Lan Xichen arches an eyebrow, toying with the undulations of the steamy water and the soft flower petals drifting at his will. Nie Mingjue exhales a hearty chuckle.

“Here? While we’re guests in Jinlin Tower?”

“What better time than the present?” Lan Xichen quips. “Get in here with me, the water is still warm.”

Unable to deny the tempting request, Nie Mingjue tugs at his sash, removing the first layer of garments under the attentive gaze of Lan Xichen. “Tie me up, huh,” he says with a hint of smugness. “I could break free from deity bindings with my bare hands.” Lan Xichen chuckles, leaning his head over the back of his hand as he ogles every new trace of skin Nie Mingjue uncovers. “Are you enjoying the show?” His lower garments pool on the floor.

“Very much,” Lan Xichen quips, swooning at the overpowering torso of Nie Mingjue and even extending his neck tall to peek where the tub covers the rest of his body.

“Are you sure we both fit in there?” He asks, having disrobed completely and doubtful the bucket tub can fit both of them comfortably. If else it will be crammed full. Lan Xichen beams and gives him a jerky nod. Nie Mingjue lifts the corner of his mouth in a half-smile, getting inside and witnessing how as he fills the little space left in the tub, the steamy hot water spills over the edge. A bunch of petals follows the same cascade-like fate, and as he accommodates himself in front of Lan Xichen, more noises of splashing and dripping fill the chambers. “You knew this would happen.”

Lan Xichen laughs, receiving Nie Mingjue’s arms around him as he pulls him into his lap for more shows of love. “Dage,” he moans the moment they join skin against skin. “Behave…” The water is hot but not unbearable, and until it cools down, they can enjoy a moment of relaxation just the two together.

“You also knew this would happen,” Nie Mingjue retorts, his lips tracing a road of kisses across his jaw, his hands moving his hair to the side, revealing a slender, sinuous neck starved of his attention. If he finds no marks of himself in his body something stirs within him to leave a thousand more. As they accommodate, more water spills, more kisses follow, and his hands find every little secret hidden from everyone else but never for him.

“Please,” Lan Xichen mumbles against his mouth. He escapes his lips but not his hands while he fetches the soap hanging from a cord. “Let me wash you.” Nie Mingjue splashes water and purses his lips, eliciting a sweet-sounding chuckle from him. How could he deny anything from him? Nie Mingjue reclines back on the tub, glad to see Lan Xichen makes himself comfortable on his thighs. He removes his hair tie and wets his hair before he grabs a cloth and rubs his chest. A smug grin creeps up his face when he realizes Lan Xichen bites his lower lip as he slowly traces his muscles with the excuse of washing the day off of him. “I swear to you, Mingjue-xiong,” he sighs. “You get bigger every time.”

He shrugs as if it were nothing. “I train daily.” His hands soap his biceps and his arms one by one, sliding a wet, soapy cloth over his shoulders. His hand gets lost underwater, as he feels the ridges of his stomach and a body made for war and, in this case, to sin. “War is over, but you never know…”

“You need to be calm,” Lan Xichen chides, playfulness replaced by genuine concern. “The saber spirit… and your family history…” he sighs, cupping his face with slender fingers as he stares into Nie Mingjue’s honey tinged eyes.

“I have it under control.” His smile tries to appease his worries, but Lan Xichen doesn’t seem convinced by his charms.

“You can’t blame me for worrying for you,” he says, resting a hand over his chest. “And your heart.”

“It’s yours.” Nie Mingjue takes his hand and kisses his palm. There is no place for worries in his presence. Time has stopped, and he’s the master. “So am I… to do as you please…” He steals one of those bedazzling smiles, but his flirting falls on deaf ears. Seems like his lover is resolute to take the lead and dodge his advances. But his hands are still fondling his backside until…

Lan Xichen sighs and pats his cheek after a deep sigh. “Turn around.” More water overflows as he grumpily obeys. Lan Xichen’s hands soap his shoulders while Nie Mingjue relaxes and closes his eyes, folding his arms over the rim of the tub and resting his chin over them. His day has skyrocketed after Lan Xichen’s arrival. “How’s Huaisang?” Lan Xichen asks.

“He wanted to come.” He knits his eyebrows, remembering the quarrel they had a few days ago when he caught Nie Huaisang skipping training again on behalf of his precious books. He found him painting fans and sipping sweet wine when he should be sweating on the field. “I told him to stay and train until he could show me some new moves with the saber.” Lan Xichen sighs and rolls his eyes even if Nie Mingjue cannot see him. “He hates me now.”

“Huaisang adores you,” Lan Xichen says, his fingers threading in the wet strands of hair while moving them out of the way. “But you are too strict sometimes.” He mutters the last words and sugarcoats them with a kiss on his shoulder. “He would’ve had a great time here.”

“Jin Guangyao is here.” He doesn’t want him to taint his brother more than he already has. Nie Huaisang loves when he comes around to play the guqin for him because he always brings him presents and useless possessions that only distract him from his duty and encourage his carefree behavior.

“A-Yao loves Huaisang,” Lan Xichen says, dreading this line of conversation will only ignite Nie Mingjue’s anger.

“Meng Yao loves to spoil him to anger me.”

“Mingjue-xiong!”

The conversation reminds Nie Mingjue about Lan Wangji, but he doesn’t want to ask Lan Xichen directly. As far as he knows, his brother is still in seclusion, healing from the severe punishment he endured after what happened in the Luanzang Hill before the siege. If he asks, he will see Lan Xichen’s smile vanish from his lips and the pain of what happened invading him again. And that’s something he won’t do when they’ve just been reunited.

Nie Mingjue has his own reservations about what the cultivation world did against the Yiling Patriarch. It seemed like a good idea back then. A raid for justice and the safety of the world, but perhaps it could have been avoided, perhaps they went too far without checking all the facts. If what they did was right or wrong, time will tell. What he knows is that it caused unnecessary pain to Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, and that Wei Wuxian lost his life doing one last good deed. If they will live up to his sacrifice, that’s something he’s not sure about yet.

The noises of the water behind him takes him to the present. “I will bring Huaisang with me the next time we visit the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue says, turning about to face Lan Xichen and cradle him in his lap once more.

“You better do.” Lan Xichen presses their lips together, hanging the cloth over the rim of the tub while Nie Mingjue’s hands roam all over his body as a promise for more. Perhaps making him wait for his treat and playing with his restraint is a double-edged sword, but there’s something thrilling about playing with fire, especially if it’s Nie Mingjue’s fire. “I’ve heard about yesterday…” he teases, interrupting the open-mouthed kisses on his neck as Nie Mingjue groans.

“I am right so don’t scold me.” With that, he drags his lips over his slender neck, resuming his ministrations. A hand sneaks between his butt cheeks, the other squeezing his thigh. He wonders how much will Lan Xichen resist if he just leaps out of the tub with him in his arms and throws him carelessly on the bed for the ravishment to begin.

“Uh-uh,” Lan Xichen says with a hint of smugness in his voice. He grasps his wrist and prevents those fingers to sneak and work his wonders in him. He won’t have the will to stop him. “You drew your saber and threatened a former guest disciple of the Lanling Jin Sect in front of Jin Guangshan and half the cultivation world…”

“Humph,” Nie Mingjue grunts. “An assassin responsible for the massacre of the Yueyang Clan who should’ve been executed in the spot!”

“Not by your hand.” Lan Xichen’s voice doesn’t quiver in the least. He has always been the only one who dared to question Nie Mingjue’s aggressiveness and chastise him for it. “Don’t let old grudges taint your heart in this matter.”

“Xue Yang is a killer, and nothing good will come out of this if he doesn’t pay for what he has done,” Nie Mingjue says, his voice stern. The incident had been in the back of his mind until yesterday after Xiao Xingchen provided enough evidence against him. “If you had seen how Meng Yao defended him, fabricating lies after lies to justify his actions!”

“Mingjue-xiong…” His hands wind around his neck, noting the muscles tense and hard.

“I won’t forget about this,” he swears. “Either Jin Guangyao brings me his head or I’ll find him myself in the damn dungeons and cut his throat.”

A deep sigh is the telltale Lan Xichen won’t fight him over this. He listened to Jin Guangyao’s version about the issue and it didn’t seem so severe; perhaps false accusations, a misunderstanding of some sorts, but Nie Mingjue’s stubbornness worries him. “A-Yao is not the leader, Sect Leader Jin is, and he cannot do as you please just because you demand it from him.” Nie Mingjue frowns as he averts his gaze, but Lan Xichen tenderly tilts his head into his direction. “I promise I will interfere…”

“Don’t bother or he’ll poison your ears too.” He’s the only one he cannot fight, his beautiful Jade of Lan, pure and guileless. “This is between us two, the last chance to walk the right path…” The sentence drifts into a pregnant silence, inwardly, Nie Mingjue knows it’s already too late for Jin Guangyao to mend his past actions.

“Brother cares about you too,” Lan Xichen says with a sweet smile, cupping his face to ease the worrisome furrow between his brows. “Why would he travel from Lanling to Qinghe so often if he didn’t care about your well-being?” As much as he tries, no answer comes out of his parted lips as he stares into those two dark wells that bare his soul. “Sect Leader Jin said he would revise the proof and punish accordingly, and I am sure brother will help your cause too.”

“To trust Jin Guangshan’s judgment and Jin Guangyao’s advice,” Nie Mingjue snorts wryly at how that will follow a monumental disaster.

Lan Xichen nudges him playfully, dropping the subject for the sake of their encounter, but fearing this will open a new bleeding wound between his two brothers. “Your mood is terrible today.” The half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth goads him to leave all grudges behind for now.

“I've missed you.” Nie Mingjue nuzzles against his nose while Lan Xichen caresses the back of his neck with deft fingers. His shoulders relax and his eyes glitter with renewed lust.

“Dage…” he whispers. “Your swordsmanship is as sharp as ever, but the saber spirit becomes stronger as you do.” Nie Mingjue wraps both arms around him. No one has ever cared about him as Lan Xichen does. His deadly fate had never weighed dolefully in his conscience but it does now that he has someone to share his burden with. Nie Huaisang lives oblivious to the true nature of his saber. “I can feel the resentful energy taking its toll on you.”

“I know, I know…” he plays down his fears.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Lan Xichen whispers into his mouth, their gazes locked in the worries that torment Nie Mingjue, and the ones distressing Lan Xichen.

“If only there were you and me alone in the world, Lan Huan.” His hand traces the sinuous curve of his spine to his nape, shrouding around his neck as he opens his mouth and breathes in the last hint of hope from his lips. If the day he cannot claim them as his arrives, he’ll have no more deeds left in this world.

Lan Xichen pushes the worries to the back of his mind while Nie Mingjue’s mouth claims his common sense kiss after bite, after breath as if he was a drink of heaven. A gasp and a shared smile seal the truce. Resting his head on his chest, they enjoy the silence and disregard the many questions left unanswered after their conversation. Sometimes they cannot find a middle ground. Nie Mingjue kisses the crown of his head and reclines back on the tub while Lan Xichen listens to the beating of his heart as if it were the metronome of his own.

Eyes closed and head thrashed back, he takes a deep breath, but as though he just remembered where they are, Nie Mingjue groans softly -which Lan Xichen has always found adorable- and breaks the silence between them. “We will have to attend the banquet tonight.”

“Yes.” Lan Xichen hides his smile pressing a kiss on his collarbone and straightens. “But not for some more hours…” His hand sneaks underwater as seamlessly as his other arm winds around his neck. He fists Nie Mingjue’s half-hard length for a gentle tug as he watches him. Nie Mingjue opens an eye a slit at the same time his mouth curls upward in a sly smile. Unable to resist him, he leans on the rim of the tub, arms spread at both sides while Lan Xichen works him hard in long, smooth strokes of his soapy hand.

Warmed-up lips trap his earlobe into his mouth as he stirs him up with expertise, his hand tightening around his girth to note the swelling hardness. His cock answers to his caresses without a trace of doubt and Nie Mingjue lets out a needy groan every time he squeezes the head and travels down with a subtle twist to the root of his impossibly hard-steel erection. “If you tease me…” The threat comes out in a thread of voice that dies in a not-so-subtle moan.

Lan Xichen nibbles at his neckline, his movements unhurried, alluring, gauged… they aim to arouse without completing the task. Playful fingers find their way between his butt cheeks, prodding and tugging, distracting Lan Xichen from his doing. “Dage,” he warns, but his eyes are two deep pools of lust that promise a lascivious night and an even more enticing and sore morning. Lan Xichen bites his lower lip, wondering what keeps them from becoming cultivation partners and turning this into their every day. Who cares about the shared fate of the Qinghe Nie Sect Leaders, he could aid him daily, cultivate together, deal with the saber spirit as a couple and not Nie Mingjue alone. He could be the exception and live many happy years by his side.

A tender sob mingles with a gasp of pleasure and the movements of the lukewarm water around them. “Why do you want me bound by bindings when you love my fingers in you?” Lan Xichen tugs faster at his pulsing length when a finger sneaks inside him and he feels the discomfort at the lack of ointment and the scant lubrication of the water. “Why can’t I have you here and now?” His voice is a heady whisper that blurs his senses and enchants his heart.

“Because…” Lan Xichen gasps, his lids heavy, his hand holding onto his cock but his mind focused on that intruding finger. “Because I want to make you tremble…”

“You already do,” he says with a smug smile.

“I want to see you come undone.” His thumb traces circles around the tip, but Nie Mingjue has found his way to his neck and the hot cave of his mouth paint his skin in dainty kisses and tender-hearted bites.

“Let me have your pleasure now,” Nie Mingjue whispers into his ear, puffing his breath along with the desire coiling down in him. “And then I’ll be yours to do as your heart pleases.”

“I want…” Upon seeing his hesitation, Nie Mingjue gropes for his butt and helps him out of the water until he sits on the rim of the bucket tub. Water pours down of him as a cold breeze gives him goosebumps. His cock stands firm in the air, reddened and swollen by his arousal, and soon at the mercy of Nie Mingjue’s relentless lips.

“Tell me,” he says tenderly, relishing in the soft moans as he drags his lips across his perfect, curved erection with sinful intentions.

“I want you to relinquish control.” Nie Mingjue chuckles. “To give it to me.” But Lan Xichen’s honeyed voice would convince him to walk through embers and dive into hell with just one word. He wants the power he already has, but something about giving it freely as they make love curls his stomach in sheer pleasure.

As he laps his length in long swipes, Nie Mingjue realizes he’s always the one to give and take from him whatever he wants for as long as he wants, and Lan Xichen yields to him every single time. It’s something they both have enjoyed since the beginning of their relationship. “What else?” he says, his thick eyebrows knit in a furrow, his eyes brimming with curiosity and dark desires.

“Trust me,” Lan Xichen murmurs. His cheeks are tinged in a beautiful, scarlet red, his neck in a pink hue. He grips the edge of the bucket to hold himself upright while Nie Mingjue has his cock in one hand and the other leaving fingerprint bruises on his thigh.

“I do,” Nie Mingjue says with a boyish smile. “Always.” After the honest confession, Nie Mingjue slides his cock into his mouth; until the head taps the back of his throat and his lips brush his knuckles.

“Mingjue-xiong!” Lan Xichen moans, his trembling legs waving the surface of the bath. His long hair sticks to his back and shoulders, but a strong hand supports him while a wicked mouth ripples around him.

Somehow, he should’ve known Nie Mingjue wouldn’t settle for his teasing, that he’d want his fair share of him as he always does. Not that he minds in the least. Lan Xichen tilts his hips to meet his mouth, to pursue the nigh-overwhelming warmth that surrounds him whenever Nie Mingjue drags him out lazily only to take him deeper in the next heartbeat. Stuffed of him one moment, missing the searing length filling him the next. Nie Mingjue rumbles, hungry and determined.

He’s awfully aware of the raising and falling of his chest, of his desperate panting, the embarrassing noises pouring out of his mouth as encouragement. The sight of him between his legs taking his cock with blushed cheeks and swollen lips strikes him. Nie Mingjue would smile smugly if he could, having him right where he wants and how he wants. He suckles his cock in the perfect rhythm to send him over the edge and steal his pleasure from him.

“Dage,” he gasps.

Nie Mingjue rounds an arm around his hips, a hand caressing the skin of his stomach and feeling the subtle twitching of his muscles as he feasts on him to his heart’s content. No gauged love for Nie Mingjue, no subtleties, no half-hearted efforts to raise him to heavens. Lan Xichen whips his head back and lets out the last air left in his lungs in a moan from the back of his throat.

Sunk in the depths of his willing mouth, he accepts the soft brushing of his tongue, the pressure of his lips around his girth, the heavenly heat swathing him in a blanket of bliss. As his orgasm courses through him like a jolt, he spills into his mouth, a hint of shame tinging his cheeks in a bright red and a new gasp of breath filling his lungs. Nie Mingjue swallows the first hot gush and the rest that follow, pulling at his softening cock as he sucks and hums a pleasing melody just for him.

When a soft hand rests over his shoulders, he stops and glances up at Lan Xichen’s lavish beauty in the afterglow. And _that_ smile. He’d die or live a thousand days just to see him smiling at him as he does now. He takes him out languidly, wiping his lips with his own tongue to taste the bittersweet lust he dragged out with such fervor.

“My zealous lover,” Lan Xichen whispers playfully, defeated by the orgasm still shaking his body. If not for the strong arms holding him, he would’ve fallen. “Take us to bed.”

Nie Mingjue smiles victorious, leaping out of the tub and fetching the nearest towel to wrap Lan Xichen on it. Before he can complain, he lifts him effortlessly in his arms and walks them both toward the bed. And to think he deemed it too sumptuous before and now it seems the perfect size for what he intends to do to Lan Xichen for as long as he allows him. “Are you going to put a leash on me, Xichen?” he says right before a throaty chuckle. Lan Xichen’s clear laugh gets muffled as he hides his face in his strong, bared chest. “Because you already have.”

Lan Xichen spreads on the bed wet hair and all, already missing his arms, but bites his lower lip as his eyes sweep over the length of his damp, muscular body, hoping to have him over his own as he makes all his wet dreams come true. “Then come here.” He stretches his hand and takes his forehead ribbon from the nightstand. Nie Mingjue arches a questioning eyebrow at him, wiping the excess water off his body with the towel before he looms over him, still doubtful if he should fulfill his promise and pamper Lan Xichen or if he should just take, and own until those sweet-sounding pleases and pleas come out of those velvety, creamy lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) ♡
> 
> No worries, there's more. The next chapter picks up right where we left it here... (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the new tags (灬╹ω╹灬) I got a bit carried away from my initial idea xDD

Golden light fills the room and seeps through the creamy curtains of the canopy that cannot hide the merry couple nestling on the bed. Chuckles and hearty laughs mingle with their voices and the words that can only be said between whispers for the ears of the lovers. They would flush their cheeks in pink if anyone else heard them. “Stay still,” Lan Xichen protests, pursing his lips. Nie Mingjue’s hands fondle up and down his thighs, his lover straddling him with a clouded, white ribbon dangling between his fingers.

The bed is a mess of tumbled, damp sheets and pillows thrown carelessly around them, but neither of them minds the collateral damage of the joy of being together again. Spiritual energy surrounds them in an invisible but perceptible mist as they cultivate together. That’s how Lan Xichen knows how heavy the burden in Nie Mingjue’s heart is, how much he needs his presence, how much they have missed the other. Moments like these are scarce when they live apart and life prevents them to meet as often as they wished.

“Fine,” Nie Mingjue concedes at the adorable pout on his lips. He joins his wrists and lifts his arms in front of him to play along with his desires to restrain him. An immediate smile curls Lan Xichen’s lips upward.

A secret tryst doesn’t suit their hearts anymore, Lan Xichen wonders as he forms a bight with the forehead ribbon and wraps it around his wrists twice. Nie Mingjue snorts but he arches a questioning eyebrow at him to chide his childishness. No one can escape the spiritually imbued forehead ribbon from the Lan Sect even though Nie Mingjue rejoices in the idea of breaking free of it if he pleases. “You won’t get free of this unless I want to, dage,” Lan Xichen teases. He slides the ribbon in between the set and joins the two columns together. “Or unless you ask me too.”

“Ask you?” Nie Mingjue lets out a hearty chuckle. “I can slide free whenever I want and take you however I want for as long as I want,” he brags. His raspy, sinful voice clenches his stomach although those are empty threats. He forms a loop and pulls the bight through, securing it with a knot. Lan Xichen glances at Nie Mingjue’s smug smile and creates yet another knot over the former.

“Try.” The ends hang from his right hand while Nie Mingjue tugs and tries to resist. The forehead ribbon binds his wrists together and it neither loosens nor tightens even though he tries his best to stretch the unbreakable fabric. Nie Mingjue is, indeed, restrained until Lan Xichen deems fit.

The smug smile has transferred from Nie Mingjue’s lips to Lan Xichen’s who secures the ends on a decoration of the wooden headboard above Nie Mingjue’s head. He finds one of the tossed pillows and places it behind his head, his forefinger tracing his strong jaw and down his chin. His Adam’s apple bobs at the feather-like caress of his fingertip.

“You got me where you wanted,” Nie Mingjue retorts. “What now?” Unconsciously, his arms tug at the white restraints to no avail. He swears if Lan Xichen starts playing the guqin now he’ll rip the canopy in retaliation.

Washing his treacherous thoughts away, Lan Xichen maps with both hands the impressive work of art that is his chest. “Now, you unwind,” he purrs. “Let me help you.” Nie Mingjue breathes in while he grazes his chest and marks of his fingernails leave a sinuous path on his skin. Lan Xichen smiles smugly, his half-hard length brushing his stomach as he leans forward, hands spread like fans at both sides of his head. His lips part, his tongue wets his lips in a leisure twirl, and Nie Mingjue cranes his head up to take his mouth. Lan Xichen escapes as he shakes his head.

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue warns with a furrow knitting his brows, but Lan Xichen shushes him, tracing an invisible road of kisses over his collarbones and his chest. Gentle swipes of his tongue tease his nipples, soft bites feel the hardness of his muscles, his hands fondling and massaging every inch at his reach. A moan escapes his lungs when Lan Xichen bites a hard nip with a ruthlessness that is more like him than his tender partner.

“Close your eyes,” Lan Xichen whispers in a voice more melodic than any tune he has ever heard.

And Nie Mingjue obeys, his other senses multiplying tenfold upon doing so. At some point he forgets about the silky forehead ribbon preventing him to use his arms and hands and focuses on the lips painting his chest in dainty kisses; on the tongue wetting his nipples and exposing them to the cold air, the heat of his breath, the velvety lips promising the heavens and punishing him with a harsh bite. He hopes he leaves marks, that every single kiss would be visible and perceptible for everyone to see because there is nothing he wants more than being his. “Lan Huan…” his name escapes as a plea. He traces old scars and yet-to-heal wounds with lips swollen of love.

The rustling of fabric and the mattress sinking oddly hints movement and yet the sound of his voice so close to his ear surprises him. “Here,” Lan Xichen whispers. “Yours.” A soft kiss on the shell of his ear sends a frisson through his body. His heart drums at the tempo of his caresses; at the rhythm of the pair of thumbs circling his wetted nipples and the mouth menacing to clench around a mouthful of his neck.

Nie Mingjue whines when it does, and Lan Xichen chuckles from the back of his throat before his tongue eases the sting swipe, after swipe. He thought he’d want to end this little game and own as he always does, but Nie Mingjue refuses to even open his eyes. He feels owned instead, worshiped and cared for like he has never been because he has never allowed himself such weakness. “Go on,” he says when the warmed-up palms hover over his body and longing churns his stomach.

Lan Xichen smiles so widely his cheeks hurt, but he cups Nie Mingjue’s face and licks his lips only to taste the desperation in them. He drinks his moans, breathes the air from his lungs, and selflessly returns his own. Hovering over him, he nuzzles against his nose and Nie Mingjue opens his eyes and finds two dark wells struck with love. “You look beautiful like this,” Lan Xichen whispers, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiles. A pink hue spreads on Nie Mingjue’s face at the unexpected praise that usually comes from his lips and has the same effect in him.

Admiring him unabashedly has always been Lan Xichen’s guilty pleasure, especially when Nie Mingjue is oblivious to his eyes on him. But that was at first, when they were friends, more than friends, sharing burdens and worries, becoming lovers and then sworn brothers. Although in his most shameful dreams, Lan Xichen always wanted to lie with him, as lovers do, as cultivation partners do, as they do now. Nie Mingjue fervently made all his dreams come true. He wanted to be bested, conquered, marred by his hands, crushed by six feet of unrestrained male until he knew nothing more than lust and desire.

Nevertheless, he will get that and more tonight, not without a fair share of pleasure of his own.

“Touch me,” Nie Mingjue says in a sultry whisper. The fact that Lan Xichen’s hands have been everywhere from his arms to his thighs and that they haven’t been where he wants them most has curled his spine in eager anticipation. Lan Xichen crawls down his body, dragging his lips over his sternum, down the ridges of his abdomen, down his navel and then… they lift, stretched in a mischievous smile as he ignores his raging erection.

His cock stands hard and firm before him, tip swollen and purplish, a clear trail oozing out of him. The teasing has him panting, even more when Lan Xichen settles between his legs and spreads them gently to the sides. Vulnerability brings a new shade of red to his cheeks, but he’d do everything his lover demands only to feel his hands on him again. “I am always amazed at how big and thick you are, Mingjue-xiong.” Lan Xichen traces the underside of his cock with a finger and watches in awe how it twitches. His mouth waters, but his smile never falters. At the tiniest sign of weakness, the power struggle would be over.

“You’re torturing me,” Nie Mingjue claims, tugging at the bindings as if he could get loose and coax from Lan Xichen the caresses he didn’t know he needed so badly.

“You have no idea…” The playful tinge of his voice, far from angering him, excite him, waiting for that threat to come true because it will bring pleasure multiplied by the frustration he feels now. He’s not used to waiting for what he wants. In a graceful movement, Lan Xichen leaps out of bed and ambles toward the folding screen where his garments hang.

Nie Mingjue follows him with thirsty eyes, ogling his nude and slender figure getting away from him while he lies in bed, waiting for him to come back and bless him again with the warmth of his body and the gentle sweeping of his eyes all over him. A glance over his shoulders later, Lan Xichen laughs amusingly. After fetching a bottle of natural oils from his robe, he reaches the bed and reads the impatience surging through Nie Mingjue. The muscles of his arms twitch, his chest heaves, his stomach flexes, but there is a luscious smile on his lips, full of hope and forbidden fantasies undiscovered until today.

“I thought you were leaving me here,” Nie Mingjue jests, pulling the corners of his mouth upward in a smile.

Lan Xichen nestles between his legs, nudging his knees apart until he sprawls and lets them hang at both sides of his body. Nie Mingjue averts his gaze from him for the first time, feeling the surge of blood flushing his cheeks. “Did I make the honorable Chifeng-zun blush?” Lan Xichen teases with a sly smile, discarding the oil container for later.

“You are playing with fire, Lan Huan,” Nie Mingjue says, forcing his eyes back on him because there’s nowhere to hide the surge of embarrassment at being pampered by Lan Xichen how he usually does, minus the bindings. If he wants to restrain Lan Xichen, one of his hands suffices to have his way with him, not that he has ever tried to resist his hot-blooded advances.

“You’re more perilous than fire.” His tongue gives a long, wet swipe from hilt to tip to his hot, searing length. Nie Mingjue breathes out a moan as he does it again, licking him in long strokes meant to arouse, his tongue brushing his flesh but leaving a clear trail behind.

“Heavens,” Nie Mingjue mutters, whipping his head back and arching his spine. His tongue is like an unfulfilled promise that it’s not nearly enough. “Take me in your mouth,” he begs, cursing his own needy request. Lan Xichen ignores him, his mouth hovering over the head until Nie Mingjue locks eyes with him. Dark, dangerous voids swooning in delight at what they believe will happen now. He puffs his hot breath into his throbbing cock, teasing with playful flicks of his tongue, tasting the salty beads on the tip. But his lips never embrace his girth, never close to bury him into the depths of his mouth. “Lan Huan, please.” Anything for the pressure of those lips closing tight around him.

The plea makes Lan Xichen’s heart go soft, and he wraps a hand around his root and slides him into his mouth in a sinful, heavenly glide. His tongue eases the way, his lips tighten and pull stealing the most embarrassing whine from him. The forehead ribbon resists the involuntary shaking of his arms, his legs trembling and his hips moving on its own. But he cannot get more than what Lan Xichen wants to give.

“More, more…” Lan Xichen suckles forcefully, his cock swelling even further into his mouth, his tongue playing the tricks Nie Mingjue loves. “Please.” Lan Xichen moves his hand away and swallows him whole, his throat constricting, his lips stretched wide, but he doesn’t move. He keeps him there, warm, desperate for some friction besides the comfort of his mouth. A hand nestles his balls while the other feels his stomach and the muscles flexing. Lan Xichen drags him out halfway, latching on him until his legs spread wider, his spine curls, and his balls draw up tight. But as soon as the first clear spurt lands into his mouth and Nie Mingjue’s breath seizes, he takes him out languidly and sits back on his calves, glancing at him behind hooded lids while licking his lips.

A loud groan resounds in the chambers, eliciting a faint chuckle from Lan Xichen. His cock bounces near his navel, cold and pulsing, mourning the climax that hasn’t come through. A jolt of rage and frustration flashes through Nie Mingjue, but Lan Xichen’s gentle hands stroke his thighs and the love-struck glance softens his heart. “Can I have you now?”

“I’ll have _you_.” Lan Xichen strokes his own cock as he watches Nie Mingjue lost in the movements of his hand. He’s hard again after Nie Mingjue took him into his mouth earlier in the tub. His will fades at the defenseless lover he has just left unsatisfied. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like that.” Fetching the oil, Lan Xichen straddles Nie Mingjue’s stomach backward, his buttocks resting on his strong chest as the ultimate mockery to his unleashed arousal. He warms up the oil into his fingers, glancing back over his shoulder and catching Nie Mingjue red-handed while trying to break free from his restrains. “Behave, dage.”

“Then come here and let me eat you.” It takes the better of him to refuse the offer, so Lan Xichen lifts his body an inch and smears oil between his butt cheeks. A soft moan escapes him as he greedily pushes two fingers in his unstretched hole. Nie Mingjue writhes underneath, grumbling at the unfairness of his torture as he watches him.

He pours more oil into Nie Mingjue’s cock, watching the golden liquid trickling down his length. It looks even more impressive glistening and wet, ready to slide into him. Lan Xichen swallows thickly, his two fingers softening and stretching the accustomed muscle while his left hand wraps around his cock. Nie Mingjue moans loudly at the first tug and works his hips upward using the balls of his feet as if Lan Xichen’s tight fist was a present from heavens in a moment of need. The sight of him opening himself before his eyes but unable to touch takes everything up a notch.

A hint of shame crosses his gaze at how he’s enjoying this back-and-forth game between them. He has no other choice than to surrender to the undeniable lust that courses through him and dances at the tempo he dictates. Lan Xichen mumbles his name. “Mingjue,” and it coils down in him so deeply it hurts. He rocks his hips into his own fingers, the movement transferring to his hand as he jerks him off faster.

The oil warms up with their body heats, it feels good, too good. His ragged breath heaves his chest, his hips following his hand as if his life depended on it. “Xichen,” he calls, his groin tightening, a veil of perspiration coating his skin. “Lan Huan, I’m…” His hand never stops nor goes faster, perfection wrapped around him in a warm, tight fist ready to push him over the edge unmercifully. “I’m about to…” Lan Xichen chuckles, his hand pumping the tip of his cock in loose, fast movements. His breath hitches, his spine arches, his hips frantically rocking upward. And upon seeing the end and dreading he won’t spill inside him, everything’s gone: the hand, the wonderful friction around his cock, and his climax. It recedes at the brink of orgasm as a sob that never finds his way out. The same frustration turns his moan into a growled curse.

Lan Xichen shushes him, turning around and peppering kisses across his spit-licked lips. They’re swollen and red by the many bites that held back his needy whines. “I’m here with you,” he whispers. His hands smear oil all over the sheets as he soothes his lover with tender words and delicate kisses. “Do you want me to untie you?”

A pregnant silence holds them both on tenterhooks. “No.” Lust glitters in his eyes, his body on edge and tense but not fighting the bindings nor Lan Xichen’s will. “But I need you. I need to be inside you,” Nie Mingjue says in a raspy whisper. His head lifts from the pillow as they brush their lips together for a wet, sultry kiss that speaks of what cannot ever be tied or gauged: their love.

Escaping his mouth while crawling down his body, Lan Xichen never lifts his eyes off of him until he notes his cock behind him, dripping a mixture of oil and pre-cum. He reaches back for it, hovering over him and rubbing the tip between his cheeks as his last push to tease him. Nie Mingjue’s face breaks into a grin. He has what he wants so close he licks his lips as if he were about to devour a ripe, juicy loquat.

Lan Xichen anchors his knees wide on the mattress, his hand spreading his butt cheek while the other grasps his cock. It’s slippery and steel-hard, and the moment it prods at his hole, he realizes he hasn’t stretched himself enough for his size, but he will soon. He relaxes and takes him with a loud moan, but not louder than Nie Mingjue’s. His welcoming heat hugs him tight to a nigh-unbearable point, and he seizes his breath and forces his hips down on the bed. Lan Xichen rules today and every day, even if it has taken a clouded ribbon for him to realize to what extent he owns him, body and heart.

“Nothing feels as good as you filling me like this,” Lan Xichen purrs as though Nie Mingjue needed his dirty talking on the side to lose his head for him. As gently as he can, more for teasing than necessity, Lan Xichen takes him inch by inch. His legs tremble, his thighs burn, but his ass adjusts to his size until he’s fully seated on his lap, full of him and lusting for more. Lan Xichen takes a much-needed intake of hair, thrashing his head back, his hair tickling his back and Nie Mingjue’s thighs.

“Move,” Nie Mingjue grunts.

Lan Xichen shoots him a sultry gaze and a mischievous smile. He braces himself on his torso, feigning his intentions briefly because he stays right where he is, keeping his cock warm and sheathed inside him. “Watch,” he threatens, wrapping a hand around his own hard cock. Nie Mingjue mumbles a curse while Lan Xichen masturbates for him, his other hand grazing at his skin, his body weight preventing him to buck up and fuck him. It’s a torture for both. Little whimpers and moans seep out of him while he drives himself to a heartbreaking orgasm.

He has to suppress his own desires of swaying his hips and fucking himself with Nie Mingjue’s cock. Settling for a faster pace as he jerks off, his length swells and his wrist executes a well-rehearsed movement. Glancing at him behind hooded lids, he rejoices in how pitiful Nie Mingjue looks, how desperate to get more besides the occasional clenching around him as he builds up his orgasm. “And I thought you were incapable of -he swallows and gasps for air- of evil,” he retorts, his hands clenched into fists so tightly his knuckles are as white as the ribbon restraining him.

“Evil?” Lan Xichen mocks with a sly smile. “This is just for you, dage…”

Lan Xichen thwarts Nie Mingjue’s every attempt to move by pushing him down with his body weight, his hands useless above his head. Even if he bucks up, he gets no friction on his cock, only his tight warmth around him. “Please, please…” he grunts.

“Dage.” Lost in his pleasure, Lan Xichen stares listlessly at his godly chest, coaxing out of himself yet another climax as he watches what he considers perfection. Strong, beautiful, built, not only in the outside but in the inside; he couldn’t be more in love with him. His cock twitches and he squeezes himself harder, riding out his orgasm with Nie Mingjue’s cock shoved deep up his ass. He paints his chest in pearlescent stripes, his ass fluttering around him and clenching almost painfully, judging by Nie Mingjue’s delighted expression.

Lan Xichen strokes until his cock is soft and weary until he notes a slight discomfort at being stretched and filled so painstakingly. “Lan Huan, please…” A half smile stretches the corner of his mouth, his right hand smearing his come over his stomach. He leans forward and drinks the pitiful moan from Nie Mingjue when he slips out of him and his cock springs free of the heavenly trap.

“I love you, Mingjue-xiong…” he whispers as praise, turning his cheeks even more pinkish. It takes only a second to command the forehead ribbon. Tugging at an end the rope work that had him bound soul and body to this bed unfolds. And it takes half another second for Lan Xichen to be on his back, completely covered by a sweaty, madman lusting for him.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue quips. Lan Xichen laughs and the clear sound dies in a whine when he gnaws at his neck until he almost draws blood. The forehead ribbon is still loosely wrapped around one of his wrists, but it cannot restrain any longer the lascivious thoughts and raw animalistic rut coursing through Nie Mingjue. “You knew you’d drive me mad for you…” He leaves the comfort of the crook of his neck to be blinded by a flustered beauty.

Lan Xichen nods while biting his lower lip, spreading his legs invitingly to accommodate Nie Mingjue’s wide frame between them. His cock is soft and overstimulated, but he doesn’t mind, his ass clenches at the mere thought of that thick length plunging in unannounced at any time. His cum smears between their stomachs, but neither of them mind.

Nie Mingjue cannot take it any longer, he presses their foreheads together and blindly finds his way inside him. He swivels his hips forwards, following a slicked-oil path to his softened hole. It takes him seamlessly. “Mine,” he breathes out. Bracketed by his muscled arms and thighs, Lan Xichen clings to his body and scratches the sides of his torso to make up for the lingering burn in his ass. Losing the last thread of self-control restraining him, Nie Mingjue fucks him hard and fast.

As if they had no time left; as if death awaited around the corner to snatch these furtive moments from them. “Dage, dage…” The mantra that leaves his lungs and his dried-up lips as Nie Mingjue takes, owns, and fucks him speechless. Lan Xichen notes the overflowing gush of cum inside him, but even after his release, Nie Mingjue’s cock is still hard and stretching his sore rim.

“I’ll take you from behind now,” he whispers into his ear before he bites the lobe. “And I’ll be everything but gentle.” His efforts to drive him to an insatiable beast worked like a charm.

A brief, stolen kiss and then his flustered cheek is against the soft bedding. Nie Mingjue manhandles him, nudges his knees open, and roams the length of his back with two greedy, calloused hands and a pair of luscious lips. They trail down his tailbone and down his rim. His tongue darts out to tease and lick at his abused hole, pushing the pearlescent cum back inside him in a filthy, possessive act. His spine arches and his ass lifts into him, but he buries his face in mussed sheets out of embarrassment. “Yes…” A moan escapes him at the wet muscle lapping and soothing the sensitive spot.

Nie Mingjue spreads him with a hand, giving himself an ungentle tug on his cock to prevent it from going soft. As he licks his gaping hole, he swells enough to slide inside him again. He cleans his tongue from cum and oil in his butt cheek and straightens. Aligning himself, he sheathes in a ruthless onslaught that steals a strangled moan from Lan Xichen. “Too rough?” he mumbles, breathless by the nigh-unbearable heat hugging his cock once more.

A faint chuckle gets to him, and Nie Mingjue crawls his way forward, his chest hovering over Lan Xichen’s back. His hips hug the lush curve of his ass and his cock sinks balls-deep inside him. After today, his body will be covered in bites and bruises. “Try harder, dage,” Lan Xichen teases, and Nie Mingjue pulls out with a groan and lunges forward, thrusting deeper inside him as an answer. “Yes,” he whines. “Harder.”

Nie Mingjue wheezes as he grants him another harsh slam, the first of many more. A hand sneaks between the mattress and Lan Xichen’s chest. He pinchs and fondles his chest, the other hand finding his fist and unfolding it until their hands interlace together. His hot breath puffs steadily against his nape. Lan Xichen moves the hair out of the way for him even though his legs are jelly and his mind drifts by the intensity of their embrace. Not to speak of the hard cock splitting him open. “You’re mine.” Nie Mingjue kisses the bare skin on his nape to claim it as his.

Short, quick thrusts set the pace again, unmerciful when his cock brushes Lan Xichen’s prostate and he writhes more from discomfort than from pleasure at first. Nothing would make Nie Mingjue stop now. He has more to give. Wet noises along with the slapping of flesh against flesh fill the room. Lan Xichen is drenched in him, and oil, and sweat from his body over his own. “More, harder,” he mumbles, a hand sneaking underneath his body to wrap around himself and try to coax another orgasm out of his spent, sensitive cock. He jerks off sloppily, distracted by the many sensations all over his body. Nie Mingjue pounding relentlessly inside him, a pair of fingers pinching, tugging and rolling his nipple, their hands squeezed in a clammy grip.

The back of his thighs is sore, his ass feels sore, his cock overstimulated, and yet he’s in ninth heaven while Nie Mingjue slams into him over and over. “You wanted this…” he mutters between breaths, biting harshly at his nape and drooling as he anchors his knees further apart, sprawling Lan Xichen on the bed as he takes his pleasure. His lover has the nerve to let out a chuckle.

“You’re a horny mess,” Lan Xichen teases before another ruthless bite steals a well-deserved wail from him. Nie Mingjue groans behind him, his thrusts becoming frantic. He slams twice before he withdraws and comes back even harder. “My mess,” Lan Xichen moans, pumping his cock in a loose fist as he notes the glimpse of an orgasm tightening in his groin.

At a loss of words, Nie Mingjue can only admit his defeat and fuck him how he only dreamed in his youth.  Countless times, he would wake up at night drenched in sweat and with a hard mast between his legs. Those times, he shamefully wrapped a hand around himself and ruined the sheets in barely two tugs. Now all those dreams are a reality, the heavenly tightness of his ass, his warm body underneath his own, his teenage fantasy pleading for more, for harder, for his cock to spill again and fill him with his lust and his hot-blooded love.

It couldn’t be any other way.

With a last, mad thrust Nie Mingjue plunges into him and comes. His orgasm courses through him lightning fast, relief invading his body, his cock spurting the last of him in Lan Xichen’s gaping hole. He mouths his love against his shoulder as if words couldn’t find their way out of his throat. Nie Mingjue hugs Lan Xichen close and motions them both side to side, his hips still pushing forward, refusing to leave the comfort of his body. “Let me,” he whispers, fisting tenderly Lan Xichen’s cock. When he’s about to ask if he should stop, Lan Xichen moans and sways needily to rut against him. The long-forgotten forehead ribbon dangles with his movements, tickling his thighs and also refusing to unravel from his wrist.

Blissed out in the afterglow, Nie Mingjue forgets about the time and how the sun seeps lower through the windows, granting an otherworldly warmth to the already golden-rich and yellowish decorations. He spares dainty kisses and nibbles from his earlobe to his neck, lost in the jade beauty now marred by his bites and his greedy hands. Lan Xichen comes with a sigh and his name on his lips, embraced by a too-gentle hand that draws out of him another climax and leaves his cock alone to soften on its own. Nie Mingjue slips out of him even though Lan Xichen hums a faint protest.

“Dage,” he whispers and earns a bear-like hug that squeezes the little air left in him.

A comfortable silence makes way for their ragged breaths to settle, for the flustered skin to tone down even though they snuggle and fuse in their embrace. The rest of the world could disappear and they wouldn’t care less. “See, Lan Huan,” Nie Mingjue whispers with a hint of smugness tinging his words as he pulls him even closer to scent the leftover perfume of the peonies in his hair. “If I could do this every day, my mood wouldn’t be so terrible…”

Lan Xichen laughs, turning into the inescapable trap of his arms to take his mouth in a languid, lazy kiss. “I am still playing for you later,” he quips. Instantly, Nie Mingjue takes his buttocks in a firm grip and nuzzles in the crook of his neck. “I said later,” Lan Xichen whispers. “I’m not going anywhere now.”

“You’re the balm to my soul,” Nie Mingjue mumbles, still not satisfied as he cradles him. “All I need is you.”

The sun has almost set by the time they leave the bed and wash their mess with the dubiously warm water from the bucket tub. The hours together go by like a blissful dream, and when they’re apart, the longing elongates the hours tenfold. Nie Mingjue, wearing a thin, dark robe, reclines sideways in a bunch of pillows, munching sweet, dried fruit while Lan Xichen plucks at the strings of the guqin and fills the chambers with the unmistakable tunefulness of its music.

The Song of Clarity is by no means unfamiliar to him, but it has to be his presence what quenches his anger and fills his heart with calmness-a smug smile creeps up his lips as he sips the unsweetened tea- and their lovemaking. A white, see-through robe against the last rays of sun of the day grants him a godly aura, and Nie Mingjue swoons in delight, finding no place in his soul for anger, rage or war. Only Lan Xichen rules his heart and his mind as masterfully as he draws those wonderful, mesmerizing noises out of the seven strings of the guqin.

“Lan Huan,” he calls, and the jade beauty flutters his long lashes and lifts his eyes to meet his gaze. A tender smile bares a row of white teeth, and Nie Mingjue’s heart leaps upon his beauty. “I love you.”

Lan Xichen’s smile widens. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! (〃・ω・〃)ノ~☆  
> Lan Xichen, baby, you got wrecked but you asked for it! (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ω˂̣̣̥)੭ु⁾⁾

**Author's Note:**

> Corrections, suggestions, and comments are more than welcome ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩


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